


made a wrong turn (once or twice)

by xTammyVx



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Bigotry & Prejudice, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, it's flipped so that alphas are mistreated, just FYI
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 02:04:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1451386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xTammyVx/pseuds/xTammyVx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn pushes his face into Niall’s thigh, mouth watering. Niall is in heat—his body is working overtime to turn him into a fucked-out mess—but Zayn’s the one who’s humping the mattress for that sliver of gentle friction, who can’t keep his hands off, who’s losing control.</p><hr/><p>Niall goes into heat, and Zayn tries his best not to hurt him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	made a wrong turn (once or twice)

**Author's Note:**

> Big love to my beautiful betas, [24horan](http://24horan.tumblr.com/), and [ghstys](http://ghstys.tumblr.com/). You're both such wonderful people!

It’s one of those times where Zayn’s staring out the window, wishing something would happen.

He doesn’t know what, exactly—nothing serious, not a mad shooter or a fire—but maybe a small earthquake, or a mild explosion from one of the test tubes.

“Oi, look,” Louis grins, tilting his phone to Zayn to reveal a lovely Snapchat of Eleanor’s bra, and the caption, _Wearing this tonight xx_.

“Charming,” Zayn replies offhandedly.

If something good doesn’t happen, he’s probably going to have to kill himself. He’s only had maths and science so far, but the day has been dull and he’s antsy, restless, to the point where it’s making him sweat from boredom.

A junior scuttles in, is beckoned by the teacher, and hands over a slip of paper. Zayn sees every student spike with hope, hope that it could be their name printed neatly on the note, hope for _freedom_.

“Zayn, nurse.”

“Sick,” he grins, packing up his stuff with a new charge sizzling in his blood. Louis pouts, betrayed, and whispers something nasty. Zayn doesn’t give two tosses so long as he can leave this hell-hole.

Only when he’s strolling merrily through the hallways does a thought occur, slowing his steps – the _nurse’s_? He actually stops dead and winces hard when he remembers the _last_ time he had to go, when he’d started his rut early, and his knot wouldn’t go down. He remembers the faces, the air of disgust as he waited for the pill to kick in and the lump in his trousers to deflate, the utter humiliation of the whole scene. Oh god, the time before _that_ had been when his sister went into heat and he’d been called in to drive her home, a car ride he could’ve gone a lifetime without experiencing.

So caught up in the horrific plummet this trip to the nurse has taken, he nearly misses Niall, who’s sitting on his hands on a chair by the deans’ office. A lady is sat beside him and she looks concerned until Niall lights up.

“Zayn!” he cries in relief, jumping to his feet and rushing forward. The lady stands, too.

“Why’re you here?” Zayn asks. Niall latches on in a second, wrapping his arms around Zayn’s midsection and pushing his face into Zayn’s neck.

He sways on the spot, peeks up, and whispers, “Smell me.”

“Oh,” Zayn says softly, taking his first inhale. “You smell like…” He glances quickly at the lady, who’s probably in earshot. “…good. You smell good.”

“Could you take me home, please?” Niall bunches up Zayn’s jumper in his hands.

“Definitely. I have to go to the nurse’s first, and then I’ll sign out and we can leave,” he says, careful not to breathe in too much of his mate’s heady scent.

“Taken care of,” the lady says, so yeah, she heard everything. Brilliant. “Niall, your mate is an _alpha_?”

(She says it like _cancer_ or _paedophile_ or _rapist_ , and Zayn’s learnt not to flinch, to allow his body to turn to stone because if he answers back, it’s aggressive – a big, aggressive alpha – a _problem_.)

“Yeah, see?” Niall lifts Zayn’s sleeve, showing the dark mark that licks down his left wrist like a flame. “Alpha.”

The lady raises a disapproving eyebrow. “I’m the substitute nurse,” she states primly.

Zayn—rudely—thinks that he definitely didn’t ask for a life story, especially when his boyfriend’s going into heat. All he really, truly, selfishly wants in this world right now is to get his dick wet, and listening to her isn’t making that happen any faster.

(When did he become so _bitter_?)

“Thanks,” he says curtly, tugging Niall along to the car park. He paces his walk with the thrum of his heart, steps hasty, while the line Niall walks in is seamless, everything about him radiant. This is what heats do – they make someone who’s already desirable _irresistible_. Zayn wishes he had the chance to admire his mate, to step back and soak it in, but his needs are piloting this one, and he doesn’t want to have Niall out in the open for longer than necessary.

(He doesn’t want others to see Niall and want him, just in case Niall decides that he wants them, too—)

As Zayn is helping Niall into the car, the scent gets tangy, salty, and Niall begins to whimper.

“Further along than I thought,” he laughs quietly, pressing down on his crotch for a second. His hands are twitching. “Buckle me in?”

The drive home is difficult, silence drawn taut over the engine and the other cars. All Zayn can hear is the breathing, the insanely heavy inhales that Niall takes firmly through his nose and pushes out of his mouth. How does anyone drive like this? Niall is pink and so, so beautiful, curled up in Zayn’s back seat, dying to touch himself. Zayn pushes a little bit harder on the pedal.

“You gonna knot me?” Niall smiles lazily at the rearview mirror, hand lolling close to his crotch.

“Yes,” Zayn says, too quickly, and Niall starts to laugh.

“Eager, babe,” he grins.

“I’ll always be, for you,” Zayn replies.

Maybe it’s too hard, too much when Niall’s horniness is flushing his face and the air around him, maybe too difficult when he’s a beautiful omega and Zayn is just an alpha. (An alpha who never knows what to do with the space he consumes but to try and hide it, tucking himself squarely into a corner, or the back of a classroom. An alpha whose energy is drained by the constant need to not stick out, to fit in a circle with his friends without disrupting the balance, to be included in a conversation without misplacing his words and using the wrong tone, to be an alpha without _being_ alpha.)

Niall laughs again, a slow, body-melting chuckle. “I’ll hold you to that,” he says softly. “When I’m old and wrinkly and you’re calling me a dickhead bastard cunt-licker, I’m going to say, ‘But you’ll always be eager for me, won’t’cha?’”

Body going hot in his tummy and that snug part of his chest that Niall has a direct connection to, Zayn holds the steering wheel tighter. He knows he can’t expect Niall to keep that half-promise. Omegas can—and usually do—have a string of partners over their lifetimes, one after another, never needing to stop. Alphas get too attached. Some never love after their first.

“I love you,” Zayn says abruptly. He’s always doing that. The things he wants Niall to hear come so smoothly to his mind but they’re always gravely in his throat, but at least the thick swell of arousal covers his nerves with a gruff undertone.

“I love _you_ ,” Niall beams.

Rolling his car into Niall’s driveway, Zayn can’t help himself; a quick flash in his mind of Niall spread out on the bed while Zayn licks the sweet slick from his arse stays longer than a glimpse, turning into an actual plan. The only thing better than getting head is giving it, unless Niall decides to go through with the rest this time, and lets Zayn finally knot him.

(God knows Zayn’s been ready forever.)

In Niall’s bedroom, Zayn delays taking off his own clothes, not wanting to have his vision obstructed by his shirt and miss the lovely unveiling of Niall’s body. Niall has to be cautious with how everything feels against his pale skin, and once he’s gotten his trousers unbuttoned he asks something he’s never asked before;

“Do the rest?” he mumbles, almost like he could be sleepy if Zayn couldn’t see the bulk of his stiffy.

“Yeah,” Zayn answers, driven to breathlessness already, hands shakily pulling back Niall’s belt.

It’s Zayn’s turn to be careful, for different reasons. He has to savour this, remember it, the sleek breath of sweat over Niall’s sides and the fine hairs that stand on end under his belly button all tattooed to the back of his mind for later. His eyes trace the fabric of Niall’s tee shirt as it lifts, damp around the pits and throat.

“Lovely boy,” he whispers.

“Mm,” Niall hums.

Zayn noses in against Niall’s briefs, inhaling where the scent is thick and hot. He drags the jeans down Niall’s slender legs, fingers brushing through the hair around his calves while Niall fiddles with his underwear, impatient. Zayn kisses the inside of Niall’s knobbly knee and it nearly gives, just likes that.

“Please?” Niall rubs at his cock, pushes a hand into his briefs and pumps it like that’s all he’s ever wanted, one sharp gasp torn from his throat when he nudges forward and the covered tip brushes Zayn’s mouth. Zayn is transfixed. “C’mon. Let’s get on the bed.”

That’s when Zayn finally removes his shirt, flinging it to the floor as Niall lies down. His body is open, inviting a hard tug that pulls Zayn over him in a way that’s indescribable, that such a strong want becomes so physical in a heartbeat seeming ridiculous until it happens.

Keeping his body up off of Niall’s, Zayn leans down for a kiss. Niall tastes like he always does when he’s in heat, a musky kind of sweet that sends Zayn’s heart rate skyrocketing and his cock swelling stiff. They snog until he starts to hump down on Niall’s leg and the denim’s too rough, Niall whimpering gently even as his dick twitches.

“Sorry, sorry,” Zayn whispers, and then his apologies are silent. His tongue seeks out the tip of Niall’s cock and then he’s sucking him down.

( _Sorry I’m so big. Sorry I’m so bulky. Sorry I can’t be what you need_.)

He wonders how many of the kids at their school would call him a slag if they could see him now, horny and bent over and sucking cock. The heavy scent of Niall getting wet is egging at his body, wants him to go down, to get a finger in where Niall’ so empty and willing. Zayn’s cock throbs angrily at him and he does his best to ignore it, appeasing himself with a rub every now and again over his jeans.

“Yeah, faster,” Niall gasps, curling in slightly and jerking his hips, nothing too hard, nothing Zayn can’t handle, nothing like the first time Niall sucked Zayn off and ended up with such a sore throat that he could barely talk. Zayn apologises for that, too, by swallowing Niall’s come.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Niall sighs.

Zayn’s knot rubs against the tight clutch of his trousers as he shifts down the bed, begging for attention and for a warm, wet arse to push into. He’s so stupidly turned on but he can wait until Niall’s had his share, had enough to let Zayn put his knot in, this time.

Thighs tensing around Zayn’s head, Niall bites his lip and mewls. He’s so perfect. Zayn’s seen his school photos, watched the transformation from the pink-faced child, to the boy in first form with brand new braces, to how he is now, grown into his chin and nose and lovely shoulders and the smooth curve of his hips. He’s always glowed like this.

Zayn leans back and takes Niall’s perfect, pretty cock in his big hand, his knuckles so broad and prominent that only the tip pokes up through his fist. Niall squirms and shifts and whimpers and, just like that, he splatters his lovely tummy with come.

“Oh Christ, fuck _me_ ,” Niall grins.

Zayn pushes his face into Niall’s thigh, mouth watering. Niall is in heat—his body is working overtime to turn him into a fucked-out mess—but Zayn’s the one who’s humping the mattress for that sliver of gentle friction, who can’t keep his hands off, who’s losing control.

That scares him.

“What d’you want, babe?” Niall asks.

“Wanna lick you out,” Zayn groans.

( _Want to bite your thighs and hold you down and rut_ —)

Niall opens his legs, feet in the air a bit, and Zayn is suddenly aware of how much room he’s taking up on the bed, and how much Niall isn’t.

“Turn onto your tummy for me?” he suggests.

Grumbling in protest at the movement, Niall folds over and stays balled up, on his elbows and knees.

Zayn has a sudden, intense rush of hormones going haywire inside him, picturing slipping his cock in right now, sinking all the way to the base. His knot could go _in_. He presses down on Niall’s arse, moves his thighs out so they’re open and his front is snug against the sheets. This way, Niall is spread, and Zayn has to huddle between his legs, making himself smaller.

“God,” Zayn sighs, splaying his hand over one cheek, thumb pushing into the cleft. Stroking down and through the slick, he watches Niall’s shoulders tighten and relax, the first touch always a zap of feeling that he can trace with his eyes. “That’s fucking amazing.”

“Is it?” Niall looks over his shoulder, view probably twisted and unjust. “Just an arse.”

 _But it’s yours_ , Zayn nearly says. Instead, he slides his middle finger in, feels the muscles that clamp down and the uneven, silky-wet walls. He remembers what it’s like to push the head of his dick in till his knot butts up against the round of Niall’s arse. He wonders what it’s like to push further.

Niall grunts in surprise, dropping his head. His hands are clutched in front of him, resting against his forehead. A smile tugs at his open mouth when Zayn kisses his neck and his bum presses back against Zayn’s front.

“My jeans, can I take off my jeans?” Zayn pleads, ready to rip them from his legs, fabric clinging so obscenely to his knot.

Niall glances worriedly at Zayn’s crotch, and Zayn knows how it must look. Every time he moves, his cock rubs against _something_ , either his own thigh or his boxers, and now it’s a thick line against the fly of his jeans that he’d die to get out.

“You can take your boxers off, as well,” Niall offers tentatively.

Of course, Zayn takes him up on it.

Stripping down is a relief for a second, then it’s another moment where he becomes larger, more intimidating. He holds his cock and tips it down as soon as his boxers are off, trying to make it look smaller, doubting that it’s working.

He hopes— _prays_ —that the soft, slow movements of his tongue are enough to remind Niall that he’d never, ever hurt him, more _sorrys_ in his touches than he can count. Even as he licks away the salty slick from Niall’s hole (and it’s heaven, oh God, it really is) he only focuses on apologising for everything he is and isn’t.

(He’s too rough, not fluid enough, too strong, not gentle enough, never gentle enough for someone as delicate as Niall.)

But he can’t hold in the desperate groans and grunts as he works three fingers into Niall, tongue lapping between them as Niall comes once, twice, another after that, so much that it’s hardly a dribble and the only way that Zayn knows is because of the yell Niall gives.

“Okay, I’m ready, c’mon,” Niall begs. “Lube up.”

(This is the omega image that media don’t ever show, unless it’s followed by a large alpha who’s ready to take advantage of them while they’re vulnerable and needy.)

A possessive, touchy part of Zayn would never want anybody else to see Niall like this, even though he knows that it will eventually happen. Niall will get sick of him and leave, because omegas bounce around between partners so bloody easily, whereas alphas pine and ache.

“Tell me if it hurts,” Zayn says, like he does every time.

Zayn counts his blessings on the first slow thrust, sinking in till his cock widens near its base, and then he stops, pulls out, and pushes back in. The sweet noises Niall makes when he starts bouncing back are fantastic, eager moans and shaky gasps threading together as he’s fucked. Thrusts gaining rhythm, Zayn rocks Niall against the bed until the boy’s arms give and he’s pressing his face into the pillow, mouth open for no words.

( _Please let me put it in,_ Zayn wants to cry. _I promise it won’t get that big, I just need it, need this, need you._ )

“Zayn, wait,” Niall pants.

Pulling out is like needles in his skin when he’s halfway to finishing, but Zayn does immediately, because he won’t be like that, will always do as Niall asks.

“I’m sorry,” he says. His voice is so rough that it sounds unlikely.

“No, it’s okay,” Niall murmurs. “And… You can put your knot in.”

Dumbstruck, Zayn stares down at the small bump that’s so ready to pop. Sometimes if he rubs it enough when they’re like this, he can knot up, but there’s nothing to catch on, leaving his knot red, hot, and swollen. Coming with it _inside_ means he could catch.

Oh, fuck.

“Yeah? Shit, okay,” he whispers. He slides right back to how he’d been before and adds, “Tell me if it hurts.” He swallows. “I’ll stop if you say so.”

“I know you will,” Niall says, then his mouth goes completely slack as Zayn begins trying to bottom out.

It’s a big stretch for Niall’s poor hole, the bulk firm and unforgiving as Zayn watches for any signs of pain, but his vision is fogged by the intense heat around his knot.

(He’s so distracted that he nearly forgets to mouth silent _sorrys_ at Niall, who’s still slumped into the mattress with his mouth agape.)

“Are you okay?” he manages to choke out.

( _Please tell me you are_ , he begs. _I don’t want to pull out. You have no idea how this feels_.)

“’S good,” Niall mumbles, volume of his voice lost in the loud panting sounds that Zayn can’t hold in. “You can’t thrust like this, though. Too sore.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Zayn nods, figuring out how he’s going to do this. He peels his sweaty hands off of Niall’s hips—when Niall sweats, it’s varnish on porcelain, a shining finish—and rests them at either side of Niall’s head. He feels wrong like this, like if anyone saw them it’d be exactly how they think Zayn would want it, his big lean body overpowering Niall’s softness, and at the same time it feels so right when he shifts his hips, gentle pushes and pulls.

“Oh, god,” he sighs, head dropping. Niall is grunting as well, fitting a hand under his stomach to work his cock. Zayn rocks into him again, and again, and—

He shakily gets to his elbows, hooks his arms under Niall’s. He’s breathing hard against the downy hair at the nape of Niall’s neck, but he can roll his hips like this, and wind them around and around so that his balls rub Niall’s arse.

“Just like that,” Niall says. “Oh, fuck.”

Zayn groans loudly as Niall comes and clenches at the same time, knot pounding with every heartbeat. Zayn pushes his fingers into Niall’s, forces them apart and holds that hand down.

He’s holding him down.

It’s sick, that controlling Niall and forcing him to stay still is what sends the first flames of Zayn’s orgasm bursting to life. He knots up with a shout cut short, long, slow pulses of come pumped into Niall’s hole.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he spits, teeth snagging on his bottom lip. This is like nothing else – he’s never knotted someone before, and now his body is _beaming_ , basking in the most beautiful feelings, forgetting his worries for the entire minute that it takes for him to finish giving his load.

Niall whines, and the sweet scent of his jizz hits Zayn so hard that his hips jerk again. His vision is better – he can smell _everything_ , and every sound is refined. He’s never had anything like it.

Zayn moans softly and nuzzles into Niall’s hair, kisses his ear and asks, “Alright?” He’s still buzzing, _Christ_ , the surface of his skin is warm and fizzing with the rush.

For a beat too long, Niall doesn’t say anything. His breath comes too roughly, eyes sealed.

“Niall—” Zayn starts, but Niall hisses, “ _Shut up._ ”

Zayn freezes. Niall’s never talked to him like that.

(Others do, because stupid alphas need to be contained, tamed, and stomped down. “ _Shut up, dog-fucker_.” “ _Shut up, mutt._ ” “ _Shut up, you filthy animal._ ” Alphas need to know their place.)

“I’ve let you put your knot in, so stop being so bloody worried, alright?” Niall says. “It feels— Alright, it’s not the best, but it’s okay.” He takes a big inhale and twists his body so that he’s mostly facing Zayn. “I’ll live, so just… shut up and enjoy yourself.”

Instead, Zayn feels ashamed for not appreciating what he has, what Niall is. He’s the most beautiful, funny, clever person Zayn’s ever met, and now Zayn’s knot-deep in him and he still isn’t happy? What the fuck is wrong with him?

(He’s an alpha. That’s what’s wrong. That’s why he can’t fully enjoy making love to the one person he’s loved since kindergarten.)

Without warning, another shot of come spurts out, and Zayn doesn’t mean to but he gasps and moans.

“There we go,” Niall says tenderly. “C’mon, make it last.” He tilts his arse up, bum snug against Zayn’s bollocks, and slowly, the rhythm starts again.

It’s slow this time, a light ache of sensitivity overpowered by the unfurling pleasure spreading through Zayn’s veins. Zayn begins to move, doesn’t even realise until he’s straightening his arms and bumping forward to meet Niall’s movements, jaw clenched tight. He’s rutting and humping, and he probably looks disgusting, but—

Something amazing happens; the fire rekindles. Zayn’s fat, sensitive knot gets stiff again, minute shudders that could hardly be considered thrusts rubbing the swell against Niall’s walls. This orgasm catches him off guard, tipped over with all of his senses heightened and exploding fantastically. He’s never felt so good and for so long, not even able to hold himself up when his cock shoots off again.

“Jesus,” Niall sighs.

“I’m—” The words are knocked out of him just like that. “Niall, _fuck_.”

“Yeah, babe, tell me,” Niall grunts.

“Mm,” Zayn whimpers. “Good, it’s so good, you’re so good.” He’s babbling, orgasm coming to an end, but he can’t stop everything from spilling out. “I love you so much.”

He realises he’s crying when Niall mutters, “Hey, hey.” He must’ve started when he was in the middle of coming, because usually he can hold it back, keep it in.

Niall manages to move them onto his side, and with some difficulty, he’s straddling Zayn, leaning in with his cool palms on Zayn’s too-hot cheeks.

“I love you too, Zayn, of course I do,” Niall coos. “God, you don’t get it.”

He says this all the time, and Zayn usually nods and smiles when Niall says that he won’t leave, he only loves Zayn, he’ll love him forever. Zayn can’t do that right now. All he can do is cry like a baby, naked and scared.

“I’ve only ever wanted you, I promise,” Niall goes on. “You’re an alpha, but that doesn’t make you a brute. You’re so kind to me.”

“I got off on holding you down,” Zayn chokes out, the confession singeing his tongue.

“But you would’ve stopped if I wanted you to,” Niall reminds him, voice easy and collected. “I’m not afraid of you. I love you, and you love me. You never hurt me. I just want you to be happy.”

Zayn still cries – now that he’s started, the fat blobs won’t stop crawling from the corners of his eyes to his hairline, sometimes bumping against Niall’s fingertips on their way. Niall sits in his lap and kisses his neck, whispering all the soothing things while Zayn’s knot softens inside him.

“Don’t ever assume that I’m upset with you,” Niall says. “I have the most amazing person under me, taking care of me, being _so fucking good_ to me all the time. You’re perfect.”

“I’m not—” Zayn tries to say.

“You are, Zayn,” Niall interrupts calmly. “You’re perfect to me.” He pushes his hand through Zayn’s damp hair. “Perfect, I promise.”

Afterwards, Zayn doesn’t talk. He pulls out, pulls on his boxers, and curls in around Niall, humiliated but desperate not to be left alone. He needs to be out of his own head for a while.

Only, when he goes to pet Niall’s hair, and run his fingers down his sides, feel his silky skin under his fingertips, Niall turns around and slings his leg between Zayn’s.

“You need a bit of T-L-C,” he smiles, then presses a soft, slow kiss to Zayn’s cheek.

Zayn actually starts crying again while Niall strokes his hair, and Niall lets him put all the sadness out in the open. Zayn starts to apologise again but Niall hushes him, wipes his snotty nose, and cuddles him to sleep.

When he wakes up, the sky is stained purple, and Niall barely has his eyes open but the room reeks of sex. There’s spunk all over the sheets, much more than normal on account of the knotting.

They make love again, more carefully. Niall is a bit sore; Zayn doesn’t put his knot in.

As he’s collecting his clothes and stuff, Zayn stares longingly at Niall’ top, the one he’d peeled off of Niall and placed on the bed with care. He always wants Niall naked when they’re like this, like it’s the last time he’ll get to see Niall without a strip of fabric to cover up, like Niall will wake up one day and realise (correctly) that Zayn is no more than a big, awkward alpha, and he can have anyone else. He could have a beta or even another omega. Anything’s a step up from an alpha.

“You can take it with you,” Niall yawns. “If you want it, you can have it.”

Zayn takes the shirt.

“I love you,” Niall says.

“I love you, too,” Zayn smiles, bending over for a kiss.

There’s nothing else to say, really.

* : ・ﾟ❧ ﾟ・: *

* * *

* : ・ﾟ❧ ﾟ・: *

Zayn attends Niall’s wedding in a suit he thought he’d never wear.

He stands when he’s told to, sits otherwise, and avoids Niall at all costs. He laughs with his friends, drinks a beer, sticks with Louis, and keeps the feelings tucked away. The stag party was a week ago but he still has the stupid fake tattoo on his collarbone, and it itches worse than the suit.

Niall walks down the aisle how he always walks – like he owns the place but everyone can share, like he has enough love and space and time for every individual. Zayn watches him with awe and a sharp tug on his heart strings.

The priest runs through the basics, and the vows go easily, Niall charming and hilarious like he’s always been.

“And do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” the priest asks.

“I do,” Niall grins, _glowing_.

“And you the same?”

Zayn glances at Niall’s face, wants to pinpoint every twitch, every detail, wants to remember it always and forever, feeling his heart burst in the strangest sort of way, because it’s not painful. He’s not crippled with anxiety, not sweating with shame. He’s here, and Niall’s here, and—

“I do,” Zayn says, and Niall’s face breaks into the happiest look that Zayn’s ever seen.

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyy first ABO-verse fic I have on here. (I've got so many half-done ones, but this is the first finished one.)
> 
> Title from P!nk's _Fucking Perfect_.
> 
> tumblr is [camonialle](http://camonialle.tumblr.com/)!


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